


The Chartres Cycle

by Rachel_Sophie95



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Chivalry, Courtly Love, Eventual Romance, Fairy Tale Elements, Folklore, Gen, Historical References, Middle Ages, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Sophie95/pseuds/Rachel_Sophie95
Summary: For the people of the Middle Ages, a pilgrimage is as much an act of religious observance as it an opportunity for adventure. Sir Percy and Sir Jason return home from the Hundred Years War and join a merry band of pilgrims on their way to the cathedral town of Chartres which includes: two lovely damsels, a wise-cracking minstrel, a traveling merchant with tales of faraway lands, a mysterious fortune teller,  a sharp-tongued midwife, a flirtatious prioress, a gloomy squire, a quirky physician, a kindly shepherd, and feisty landowner.On a pilgrimage, sometimes the real holy relics are the friends you make along the way.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Calypso/Leo Valdez, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Jason Grace & Piper McLean, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The Chartres Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based on "The Canterbury Tales" in that it will be a collection of shorter stories with a framing device of characters on pilgrimage trying to entertain each other. The prologue will introduce our cast of characters.

Paris, 1360

Percy left the Centaur Inn as the matins bells rang from Notre Dame on the morning of Ash Wednesday. At his side were his cousin, Jason, and their squire and kinsman, Nico. The narrow, winding streets of the Ile de Cité were clogged with people, animals, and carts, even at this early hour. There had been a storm the night before and the drains overflowed with rainwater and the dung from the pigs and dogs that ran freely through the streets and smelt like the Devil's arse. Percy strapped on a pair of pattens before leaving the inn. He didn't want the muck wrecking his boots.  
The street cleaners would have their work cut out for them today.  
Percy reached underneath his cloak and fingered the holy medal that hung around his neck on a piece of rough, leather cord.  
I'll carry out your wishes, Father.  
"I don't think much of Paris, " Nico said.  
He turned up his nose at the piles of filth and rickety buildings with upper stories that hung over the street and nearly blocked out the sun.  
Jason clapped the boy on the back.  
"You know, you could've stayed back in Picardy."  
Percy rolled his eyes. Two years off at war, serving as a squire, hadn't changed Nico at all. Ever since they were children, Nico always insisted they take him along on everything yet did nothing but complain when they let him come with them. Whether Percy and Jason ran off to play, rode off to fight The Black Prince's invading army, or went off on a pilgrimage, Nico would be trudging right behind them.  
A gang of ragged urchins ran past them. Jason clutched the pouch of coins that dangled from his belt with one hand and reached for his dagger with the other. Percy held his holy medal tighter. Nico scowled and the urchins scattered.  
Notre Dame was only a short walk from the Centaur Inn. The sound of the bells grew louder as they approached the cathedral.  
"Come, " Percy said to his companions. "My mother's waiting for us."

Lady Sally Jackson, the Dowager Princess de Yonville, knelt in prayer inside one of the chapels in the back of the cathedral. She rose to her feet when she heard the three young men walk in.  
Percy was the first to approach her with a courtly bow.  
"Lady Mother, " he said.  
Percy last saw his mother at his father's funeral four years prior. Their meetings had been infrequent since Percy turned twelve and went away to begin his training as a knight: only a few times a year. But his mother changed little between each time he'd seen her. A few strands of grey in her rich, chestnut hair, a few fine creases around her bright, blue eye but, still, the same serene, ageless beauty.  
Lady Sally greeted her son with a warm smile. Standing at the altar in her modest white whimple and blue mantel, she could have been a statue of Our Lady.  
"No need for formalities, my boy, " she said.  
She stroked Percy's cheek before kissing it.  
Jason was the next to bow to her.  
"Lady Sally, " he said.  
Sally took Jason's hand and squeezed it. "Fair nephew." She then turned to Nico, who stayed behind in the entrance to the chapel. "Nico, my how you've grown!"  
He turned as pink as a rose when she pinched his babyish cheeks.  
"Nice to see you, Aunt, " he said.  
Outside of the chapel, the cathedral's choir started warming up.  
Lady Sally linked her arm around Percy's.  
"I think mass is about to start. Should we head over to the nave?"  
The three young men nodded in agreement.

Notre Dame was packed to its vaulted ceiling with everyone from nobles in rich silks and velvets to peasants in threadbare wools and linens on that Ash Wednesday morning. Prayers for forgiveness floated up to heaven on billows of incense and the somber melodies of Gregorian chants. The morning sunlight cast pools of shimmering color on the tile floor.  
If God lived anywhere at any time, he lived then and there.  
Percy fingered the holy medal around his neck.  
His mother noticed him do this. "Is that your father's?" She asked.  
His thumb caressed the gold pendant. "He gave it to me on his death bed before asking me to go on pilgrimage to Chartres when the war was over and pray for his soul."  
Lady Sally lowered her eyes. "You're leaving again so soon?"  
Percy took her hand and squeezed it.  
"I'll be back before a fortnight has passed then we'll make up for lost times."  
"You'll like it at court. When Lent is over, there'll be jousts, and feasts, and pageants..."  
Two maidens, noble damsels judging by their garments of richly colored broadcloth, passed by Percy and his mother and took their places in front of them.  
The taller of the two turned her head to admire the rose window in the back of the cathedral. She wore a blue kirtle and surcoat and resembled a carved, wooden statue of an angel or a saint. A long, oval face with a wide forehead, heavy-lidded eyes, a straight nose, a rosebud mouth. Her complexion was pale with a delicate blush to her cheeks and lips. Golden curls peeked out from under her linen veil.  
The maiden in blue met his gaze, then lowered her eyes. Could such a divine vision truly be real?  
Lady Sally smiled and raised an eyebrow when she noticed Percy's interest in the maiden in blue. "...and fair and eligible ladies," she said.  
"Do you know her?" Percy asked. His mother served Queen Joan as a lady-in-waiting and knew most people at the court.  
Lady Sally nudged his shoulder with her elbow. "She's Annabeth Chase, one of the Queen's maids of honor, and the daughter of the Baron du Contaille."  
Fair and eligible indeed. His mother probably searched through the unmarried female courtiers for a potential daughter-in-law. Taking a wife and providing his lands with an heir seemed like the natural next step in Percy's life. The war with England was over. He had inherited his father's title and all the responsibilities that came with it, such as making an alliance with another noble house and continuing his family line to the next generation. Lady Annabeth's beauty had caught Percy's attention but looks alone did not determine whether or not a woman was worthy of love.  
Such worldly matters could wait until he returned from his pilgrimage.  
"Who's the other girl?" Jason asked Lady Sally.  
Lady Annabeth's companion had been making sheep's eyes at Jason for the past several minutes. She wore red and was the exact opposite of Lady Annabeth in appearance: delicate and olive-skinned with cat-like slanted eyed, upturned nose, and a crooked mouth and deep brown hair worn in braided loops. Not a conventional beauty but stunning nonetheless, though Percy preferred Lady Annabeth.  
"That's Piper McLean, another maid of honor. Her father is the famous troubadour, Sir Tristan McLean."  
Ladies throughout France and Burgundy swooned over the handsome Sir Tristan, his angelic music, and his achingly romantic lyrics but Sir Tristan only had eyes for his wife and the muse who inspired his most celebrated ballads. Lady McLean, known as La Belle Aphrodite, was such a famous beauty that students and soldiers sang bawdy songs about bedding her in taverns and army camps.  
Their daughter had obviously inherited the good looks of both her parents. She would be an ornament to the royal court and make an appropriate bride for Jason.  
Lady Sally's grin widened. "I can introduce you to them," she said. "Or would you prefer to continue standing there with your mouths open like two gargoyles?"  
Percy tightened his lips.  
"We were not..." he said.  
"The two of you were practically salivating," Nico interrupted.  
Jason's wolf-like glare chased the mocking grin off Nico's face. His restraint was admirable. Percy would have boxed the knave's ear for such a remark.  
The train of Lady Sally's gown fanned out behind her as she strode over to where the two maidens stood. Lady Annabeth closed the beautifully illuminated girdle-book, from which she'd been reading aloud Latin prayers.  
So, she could speak and read Latin? An educated damsel as well as a fair one.  
"Good morning, Madame la Princesse," she said, giving Lady Sally a low curtsy.  
"Mademoiselle Chase," Lady Sally replied. "Well met. And you, Mademoiselle McLean. How are you, my dear?"  
Lady Piper lowered her eyes. "Very well, Madame."  
"These gallant knights wish to make your acquaintance," Lady Sally said. She gestured for Percy and Jason to come forward. Blushing, they obeyed. Lady Sally put a hand on Percy's shoulder. "My son, Sir Perseus Jackson, the Prince de Yonville."  
Lady Annabeth looked Percy over with a raised eyebrow, perhaps disbelieving that the young ruffian in the traveler's cloak and boots who stood before her could possibly be the illustrious Prince de Yonville. Percy would use his courtly manners, and ability to speak Latin, to show Lady Annabeth his nobility.  
"Cara domina," he bowed to the haughty damsel. "Sit Voluptatem."  
Lady Annabeth curtsied and looked up at Percy through her feathery, golden lashes- a bold and flirtatious gesture. "Et ego quoque, domine," she said.  
Lady Sally beamed then clapped Jason on the back. "...And this is my nephew," she said. "Sir Jason Grace, the Count de Marais."  
Jason dipped a slight bow to Lady Piper. The maiden had been all sheep's eyes a few moments ago but now, she was flushed and bashful. She replied to Jason's bow with a timid curtsy.  
"Mademoiselle," Jason began. "It's an honor."  
Lady Piper's mouth curled into a shy smile. "The honor's all mine," she said.  
Both of their faces were the color of beets.  
Percy shook his head. Jason was a strapping and handsome knight and Percy never understood why he was so shy around women, even the camp followers and tavern wenches who took their coin and their seed while they were on campaign. Lady Piper's bashfulness was more understandable. Maidens were expected to affect a coquettish modesty with their suitors but men who blushed and simpered like nuns never won their hearts.  
The Ash Wednesday mass began with a solemn but optimistic chant:  
"Miserere omnium, Domine,  
et nihil odisti eorum quae fecisti,  
dissimulans peccata hominum propter poenitentiam et parcens illis"  
Lady Annabeth took her place next to Percy, so close that the hem of her gown brushed against his foot. She smelt of rosewater and lemon peel.  
"Your Lady Mother often speaks of you," she said. "She's always telling the ladies of the court about how you were knighted on the field at the battle of Poitiers after you took an arrow in the shoulder for your uncle."  
Jupiter Grace, Count le Marais, was like a second father to Percy. The first father fell earlier in the battle and Percy hadn't wanted to lose the other or see Jason go through the same agony. Luckily, the arrow didn't pierce him anywhere serious. The old wound still bothered Percy from time to time, even after four years.  
It ached a little when Percy turned his head to face Lady Annabeth. "Mothers are usually partial," he said. "Especially towards only sons."  
Of the many children that Lady Sally had born her husband, only Percy and his younger sister Estelle survived infancy.  
"I guess every boy is Sir Galahad in his mother's eyes," Lady Annabeth replied.  
Percy raised an eyebrow. "And is every girl Our Lady to her father?"  
"It depends on the father."  
Happy Lady Annabeth's father to have begotten such a child.  
The procession of priests and altar servers made its way down the aisle with a bejeweled crucifix at its head. A cloud of incense wafted towards Percy and Lady Annabeth. It's spicy perfume tickled their noses. The priest flicked holy water and Percy and Annabeth crossed themselves when the droplets fell on them.  
An urchin ran in front of the procession. The worn-looking yellow kirtle she wore was too large for her scrawny frame. It's trailing skirt cause her to slip and fall on the marble floor, causing the procession to come to a halt.  
Is the child mad? Percy thought.  
Nico, the person closest to her, extended a hand to help the urchin to her feet. She was a dark, bird-like thing with large golden-brown eyes, similar to an owl's. Loose auburn elf-locks framed her sad, little, brown face. The hint of womanly curves under the yellow kirtle marked her out as above the age when modesty dictated that women bind their hair and keep it covered with a cap or veil.  
What parents would let an almost grown girl-child behave so shamelessly?  
The urchin gave Nico a weak smile then hiked up her skirt, exposing bare legs and feet, and nudged her way through the crowd of parishioners, who gasped and tutted their disapproval. She knelt at the feet of a statue depicting Our Lady feeding the Christ Child at her breast and made the sign of the cross. As she prayed, her face scrunched up in confusion, as if she was not quite sure what she was doing.  
"What a strange creature," Lady Annabeth said.  
Percy nodded his head in agreement. "Strange indeed," he replied.  
The urchin was possibly a beggar or vagabond sneaking around the cathedral, hoping to receive alms from the parishioners, or perhaps, a fairy who would send you good luck in exchange for an act of kindness. Either way, Percy untied the leather pouch hanging at his belt and took out three silver deniers. He walked over to the statue and tossed the coins at the urchin's feet. "Here, sweetling," he said.  
The urchin looked up at Percy. She wasn't an ill-favored lass; a little washing and fattening up, she'd be quite comely.  
After picking up the coins and stashing them in a small woven bag, she gave him a sad, little smile. "Many thanks, My Lord."  
"Pray for me, will you?"  
The urchin replied with a little nod.  
They had made a fair bargain. Percy's three deniers would buy her a decent meal at a tavern and the urchin's prayers would get him some time out of Purgatory when he died. Prayers from the poor, humble, and innocent held the most weight with God. The wealthy and powerful had more means and opportunities to sin.  
Percy fingered the holy medal around his neck as he rejoined his companions. He crossed himself and began to pray.  
"O Lord, who art ever merciful and bountiful with thy gifts, look down upon the suffering souls in Purgatory. Please look with forbearance upon the soul of your servant, Poseidon Jackson."  
Next to Percy, Lady Sally was also praying.  
"Eternal Father, please look with favor on the soul of my beloved Lord."  
Their words reached Percy's father in Purgatory like rain upon a parched field and assured him that the people he'd left behind hadn't forgotten him.

Percy broke his fast with Jason and Nico back at the Centaur. The rest of the inn's guests crowded into the main room to partake in a Lenten meal of poached fish with mint sauce. Lent was a time for solemnity and austerity. The watery fish and cold mint sauce made the humors appropriately melancholic.  
Percy picked at the fish with his knife and looked back fondly on the delicacies he'd enjoyed earlier in the week. Shrove Monday and Shrove Tuesday, the two days leading up to Ash Wednesday, were also known as Collop Monday and Pancake Tuesday. Memories of fried collops, roasted eggs, and fig sauce smothering crispy pancakes, things Percy wasn't able to have for the next forty days, made his mouth water. He almost forgot he was eating melancholia on a plate.  
"If you close your eyes and hold your nose," said a merchant named Frank Zhang who sat at their table. "This is quite appetizing."  
With his brawny build, close-cropped dark hair, and stern expression, Zhang looked more like a mercenary than a merchant.  
Jason took a swig of small ale and grunted in agreement.  
A physician called Will Solace, or Will Straw-Hair because of the fair tresses that framed his pretty face like a halo, slapped Zhang on the back.  
"Eat up, Zhang," Solace said. "It's good for you."  
"Where are you men heading?" Percy asked Solace and Zhang. Perhaps they were fellow pilgrims heading to Chartres? Travelers making that journey often stopped at the Centaur Inn. The trip would be safer in a larger group.  
Zhang turned to Percy. "I'm heading south on business," he replied.  
"What kind of business?"  
"Praying for success on my next trip to Constantinople at the cathedral in Chartres." Zhang gulped down a mouthful of ale. "I might also call on some fellow merchants I know who operate out of the market there."  
A trip to Constantinople? What an adventure! The merchant must have a wealth of fascinating stories about his travels in the East. He would make an amusing traveling companion.  
Solace's ears pricked up. "I'm going to Chartres as well, to get more holy medals and relics for my collection. They bring my patients plenty of comfort as I'm treating them." He fixed his eyes on Nico. "And where are you off to?"  
"The same as you," Nico blushed and lowered his eyes.  
"My kinsmen and I are on a pilgrimage," Jason added.  
Percy flagged down a serving wench. "Another round of drinks for this table, please," he said. The serving wench refilled the men's cups with ale. "Thank you, love." Percy then turned his head back to his companions. "Have you been to Chartres before?"  
Solace put down his mug of ale. "I haven't but Zhang has.  
"I always make a pilgrimage to Chartres before I go on a business trip," Zhang added. "And I have a number of friends there."  
An idea crossed Percy's mind. "Since we're all going to Chartres and Zhang knows well the way, why don't we travel together?"  
Thieves were a major problem on the main roads and some extra back-up would be useful. A big brute like Zhang might scare off the robbers before they even think of trying anything.  
Solace doffed his cap. "I'd be honored," he said. "And what about you, Zhang? We're sure to get special treatment traveling with three such great lords."  
"Aye." Zhang nodded.  
"So, it's agreed," Percy said. "We're all going to Chartres together." He raised his cup.  
Jason did likewise. "Aye."  
"Aye!" Nico added. He clanked his cup against those of the four other men.  
A youth dressed in a dusty charcoal-colored tunic sat on a stool by the fireplace. He sang in a voice like a meadowlark and accompanied himself on a fiddle.  
"A noble prince led his men on a chase.  
With the swiftest hind, they kept the pace.  
They thought t'would be a treat  
To hunt a bounty of meat  
So each lord could stuff his face."  
The youth's verses strutted around the room like a rooster in a barnyard, brushing off the farmer's attempts to catch it with a lordly crow, as they were a mere inconvenience.  
A piercing shriek brought the rooster's song to an abrupt end. The farmer had caught the rooster and snapped his neck.  
With a sigh, the youth put down his fiddle. "God's blood," he said.  
"What's the matter, my friend?" Jason asked.  
"One of my strings broke."  
"What a shame! We were all enjoying the song."  
The youth replied with a bow of his head, a mop of dark curls falling in front of his eyes. He pulled out a length of catgut from his pack and started to restring his fiddle. A metal livery badge in the shape of an oak leaf, perhaps the symbol of a noble house, dangled from the breast of his tunic. Perhaps he was in the employ of some lord and his family?  
"Are you in Paris with your master?" Percy asked him.  
The fiddler looked up at Percy through his curtain of hair. "My master?"  
"The lord whose badge you wear."  
"I wore his badge." The fiddler laughed. "But he was never my master."  
He dropped his fiddle against the wall, leaving his hands free to remove the badge from his tunic and toss it into the fireplace. It landed with a clang on the hearthstone.  
Percy lowered his head. A stranger had no right to pry any further into whatever story lay behind this act.  
The fiddler again picked up his instrument, which had the name "Festus" carved into its wooden face, and proceeded to tune the strings.  
"Sigh no more, fair ladies," he said. "Leo and Festus can make music again."  
Percy leaned against the hearth's mantlepiece. "So, Master Leo, since you're not with your master, what are your plans?"  
Leo shrugged his shoulders.  
"Since you don't have any plans, why not come with us to Chartres. It's a long ride and we could use some entertainment. The journey might even save your soul." Percy extended his hand for Leo to shake.  
"Why not?" Leo shook Percy's hand. "It's not like I have any better to do and my damned soul could use all the help it can get."  
"Then saddle up. We're just about to leave."

A massive, black Friesian stallion waited for Percy in the inn's courtyard. The stallion nuzzled at Percy's pack, hoping to sniff out a treat.  
Percy patted the horse's neck. "Alright, Black Jack, you old beggar," he said. He opened his pack and pulled out an apple he'd stashed away during breakfast.  
Black Jack's thick lips quickly enclosed the apple and chomped it in half.  
"Ready to go yet, Percy?" Jason led his mount, a dappled grey Percheron stallion called Tempest, into the courtyard.  
"In a moment."  
A groom brought out two ladies' palfreys, an elegant white and a pretty chestnut, from the stable. Three young women, dressed for traveling, followed the groom. One of them, a comely ginger lass, wore a nun's habit under her cape. The other two, Percy recognized as the two maidens he'd met at Notre Dame, Lady Annabeth, and Lady Piper.  
Lady Annabeth's forest green cloak and bycocket hat gave her a roguish appearance, like a female Robin Hood. Lady Piper had on a purplish mantle and brown hood over her gown and veil.  
Percy doffed his cap and bowed to them. "Well met, ladies," he said.  
"Are where are you off to, my lord?" Lady Annabeth replied with her flirtatious, lowered eyes.  
"To Chartres."  
"How fortuitous. So are we."  
Percy's heart beat faster. This pilgrimage might give him a chance to get to know the lovely and charming Lady Annabeth better. An unusual courtship but as good as any.  
Lady Annabeth grabbed the reigns of her white palfrey.  
"Allow me."  
Percy cupped his hands to provide a step to help Lady Annabeth into her saddle. She rewarded him with a coquettish smile. He then shot Jason a glance instructing him to do the same for Lady Piper.  
Lady Piper blushed. "Thank you, Sir Jason," she said once she was in the saddle.  
"Since the three of you are going to Chartres," Jason stared at his feet. "You're welcome to join our group."  
"Would he be safe with such a pack of rogues?" The comely nun laughed.  
"We all have to put our fates in Christ's hands, my lady."  
They all mounted their horses and met up with Nico, Zhang, Solace, and Leo at the inn yard's gate. As they rode through the streets of the Ile de Cité towards the Pont Neuf, two figures followed them close behind on foot. One was a young woman in a midwife's red cloak and smocked apron. The other was the urchin that Percy had seen begging at Notre Dame, whose owl-like golden eyes occasionally looked up and blinked at them.


End file.
